


Judgment

by dowteks



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Dubious Morality, Existential Crisis, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dowteks/pseuds/dowteks
Summary: Newly crowned the Champion of Sinnoh, a Trainer quickly finds herself bored. An encounter with Dialga turns her perception of the Pokemon world completely upside down, and she finds herself hurtling through a gritty, unpleasant history lesson of humanity that she never, ever wanted.
Kudos: 4





	Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this one on here; I've already posted it to another site under a different username. I'm posting it with the intent that it being online will guilt me into completing it. We shall see!!

So, I’m feeling pretty great. 

I’m whistling along to the fanfare that seems to be projecting from the sky and bathing in the confetti that’s gently descending upon us. I catch a look at the Former Sinnoh Champion, and my lips split into a wider-than-necessary grin at her pale, blank expression, as she stares emptily at the floor. 

I beat her so badly she forgot her protocol. I inwardly snicker as a wayward piece of confetti lands on her head, its deep blue contrasting sharply with The Ex-Champ’s fabled fair hair. 

Cynthia remembers where she is and looks up at me with a watery, forced smile (was that an eye-twitch?), and returns her crumpled Garchomp into her fancy-schmancy Luxury-ball. I, in turn, scratch my Glaceon on her head and congratulate her, before also returning her to her rightful perch in my pocket. 

Cynthia sets her jaw and shakily expresses her congratulations, then wordlessly orders me to follow her with a grandiose sweep of her arm.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and follow. It’s the last time she’ll get to order me around, so I take it in stride.

We’re in a dark room, now. A small, neon-blue table in the center of the room flickers and hums, and I register it as a glorified Pokemon Center healing station. Cynthia tells me to insert all my Poke-balls into the spherical depressions of the station, and I watch in awe as the screen above the station switches on and virtually immortalizes my team.

I’ll admit that I had to wipe my eyes after seeing an image of me, surrounded by my team, rendered on the screen, along with the words _CONGRATULATIONS, NEW CHAMPION OF SINNOH!_

The old bat Rowan bursts in and shakes my hand vigorously while simultaneously bobbing his head up and down, grinning from ear-to-ear with the knowledge that yet another of his proteges has risen to the highest echelon of Pokemon Training, and a younger generation, at that! Cynthia sighs and gazes at the floor, an action that goes unnoticed by the Professor, but not by me. I try and fail to hide my smile. 

* * *

The initial coronation (well, not really, but it sure _felt_ like one) was just the beginning. I got paraded through every town in Sinnoh, waving and shaking hands with anyone who could battle past the guards to my vicinity. 

I was apparently an especially large font of pride for Sinnoh because, at age 15, I was officially the youngest Champion to ever do the dang thing. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I always thought I was old. I’ve heard of kids starting their journeys at _ten._ So they must be doing something _really_ wrong. 

And finally, at the end of it all, after a three-year-long, arduous, painful, _soul-crushing_ journey, I was allowed to return home to my mother, the woman who had bravely and unflaggingly raised a daughter by herself, who had not allowed herself to fear for me despite feeling nothing but fear for three years, who was currently waiting on my doorstep with her arms outstretched.

“Hello, dear! You must be exhausted. Let me feed you and set your bed up for you. Maybe we can watch a silly movie tonight. Maybe we can even watch re-runs of your ceremony on T.V!”

I roll my eyes. “Not _now,_ Mom! I’m busy.” 

* * *

In fact, I really am busy. As soon as I go up to my room and fling off my backpack to a random corner of my room, I realize I still need it and heave it onto my bed. 

Because I’ve decided that I still feel empty after becoming the Champion. Three years on the road, with nothing but the sky, my Pokemon, and me, made me appreciate what it meant to be a Trainer. That battling isn’t particularly the greatest joy that life has to offer.

It’s _catching_. The ability to control, maintain, and derive power from catching certain Pokemon make my blood rush and my heart race. Getting a Gym Badge meant nothing more than allowing stronger, more fearsome Pokemon to come test my mettle. And I always win.

Sinnoh is particularly beautiful because of Mount Coronet, which slashes through entire region and renders simple communication between east and west coasts physically impossible. As a result, the Pokemon residing in Sinnoh have become geographically isolated, and the ‘same’ Pokemon on the western portion of Sinnoh might look _radically_ different from its counterpart on the east. 

I’ve taken great delight in catching and cataloging each Pokemon of the region. But it’s slightly backfired, because Pokemon _all over_ Sinnoh are aware of me now. So now, none of them come out to play when they see me, because I think I probably have a couple of their sisters or fathers or cousins. 

But that’s okay, because I’ve set my sights on an entirely new realm of Pokemon. You see, there’s this prevalent myth across all of Sinnoh (because the people here _love_ their stories) that there exist two Pokemon, native to this land, that slumber in a secret, mythical alcove laid deep within the peak of Mount Coronet. I idly cram travel necessities like clothing, potions, and energy bars into my backpack as I recall the legend: 

One of them, Palkia, controls space and all that comes with it. Which is cool and all, but...

...but the other, Dialga, is what I’m enamored by. Dialga controls _time_. How crazy is that? Our entire perception of age is decided by this one dragon-dude, who looks really dorky from the ancient etchings I’ve seen of it. _Dialga_ is the one that we all plan for, the one that decides the circle with arms above my door has value, the one that lets creatures come to be and cease forevermore.

Dialga’s inefficient head shape, questionable jewelry choices, and overall egregious color scheme have played the harp upon my heartstrings. And I’ve made catching Dialga my first post-Championship mission.

I zip up my travel-ready backpack and smile. I’m gonna use this thing once I set out on my mission, once the dust settles and Sinnoh stops caring about me. But first, I think I’ll take my mom up on that food-and-bed offer. 

* * *

The wind slices at my face, biting and clawing my reddened cheeks and clenched eyes. It yowls and moans more than my impish Luxray after a bad meal, and I would like nothing more than for it to shut up. My scarf flaps about, often slapping me in the face, but I’m grateful for the warmth it generates. The snow itself also seems intent on ruining my ascent, as it sucks at my feet and pulls my body deeper and deeper into the frozen abyss. 

It's been a month since I became Champion of Sinnoh, and the news reports are only _just_ starting to die down, mostly because of how uneventful it’s been. I’ve fought nobody since then, because not a single trainer since me has been able to make it past Aaron. _Aaron._ Even an Ember would ruin him.

So my days have been painfully boring. I leave my house, Fly to the League, and twiddle my thumbs for hours. It’s driven me crazy. As soon as I was able to convince the League that I needed a ‘break,’ I set out to climb this mountain and find my true calling as a Trainer.

And now I’m shivering and my teeth chatter as I stare at the icicles and spires and stones that brave the wind all around me. Only the hardiest of Pokemon dare to live on the peaks of the Coronet mountain range, and even _they_ would never venture out in weather like this.

My brain unhelpfully reminds me how many trainers have perished to the indifferent spires of Mt. Coronet. 

But I must have to make Dialga mine. My feet seem to lose weight and I trudge onward, renewed in energy by the mere thought of the legendary Pokemon.

You might ask, how does one capture a legendary Pokemon? I was pondering the same question until just a few months ago, when I encountered a design that seemed just too good to be true.

* * *

During my travels, I’ve met a colorful cast of characters. And this one person, Cyrus, took that adjective literally.

With dyed blue hair and dyed invisible eyebrows, Cyrus was an imposing figure. He also looked kind of like a poser, but let’s not dwell on that.

On a tangentially related note, I’ve actually met with Cynthia _before_ soundly thrashing her in her own lair, but she didn’t remember and I didn’t bother bringing it up when we met at the Pokemon League. We first met in Veilstone City, where she ran into me at the Pokemon Center and asked for my help in taking down Cyrus, who apparently was interested in using Pokemon for bad things. She didn’t expand on what _bad things_ meant, which worked out, because I didn’t want to know what _bad things_ entailed. 

To make a long story short, we took down Cyrus. Since we’d struck at an opportune time, he hadn’t yet amassed the army of Grunts that his blueprints alluded to, so it was just him guarding his warehouse of _bad things_. Dumbfounded and severely humiliated, Cyrus gathered up his nefarious plans in his arms and scurried out of the warehouse building he was hiding in, swearing revenge on us. But he’d left one thing behind.

I picked the thing up instinctively, and recognized it as a type of Poke-ball. Cynthia came up beside me and inspected the ball. 

“That’s a Master Ball,” she told me with her blue eyes wide open. “ They’re the next big lab breakthrough, but I heard they’re illegal for public use. They’re supposedly able to catch _any_ Pokemon in existence. Even, you know...,” and her voice lowered quite a bit here, “Pokemon that are _already owned.”_

She then left, citing Champion duties to attend to, and left the ball with me, after instructing me to turn it in immediately to the cops.

* * *

I never did. Taking the Master Ball out of my coat-pocket, I admire its royal purple for only a split-second before the entire thing gets smothered by snow. I groan and stuff it back in my jacket. 

I’m going to use this thing on _Dialga_. It’ll make me the first trainer to have ever caught a Legendary, which is infinitely more attractive to me than the emptiness I feel being Champion. 

At the very tip-top of Mt. Coronet, I notice a cavern dug into the side of the peak. I peer in and feel swallowed up by the hollow blackness emanating from the cave. I shrug and enter, sending out Luxray to light the path for me. 

I shudder from both cold and excitement. If I’ve followed the myth right, I should be approaching a place named Spear Pillar, which Dialga supposedly has made as its home. The myth also calls for something known as the Red Chain, but I didn’t know where to buy one of those. I brought the clock hanging above my door instead. 

There’s not many wild Pokemon here, probably out of reverence for the Legendaries. The few that I do come across, which are common Graveler and Onix, I take out with my loyal Torterra. 

The path also seems oddly well-established, as though people have made this trek before. Which makes sense. I think Spear Pillar was supposed to be an altar for Dialga and Palkia, until the travel up Mt. Coronet became too treacherous for the common-folk to make.

I smile at the thought that Dialga and Palkia only seemed to move _into_ Spear Pillar once people stopped coming to it.

The cave, which has been very narrow thus far, gradually widens and widens, and I notice my breaths stop puffing out around me. 

I take a few more steps forward, look upward, and close my eyes in victory. My Luxray growls nervously, surprised by the sudden light and warmth. 

* * *

I’ve made it to Spear Pillar. 

Of this, I have no doubt. The cavern is now massive, almost the size of Eterna City, and is basked in a soothing, sunlit hue. Golden, towering pillars rise up, some still supporting the roof of the cavern, others shattered and humbled by time. 

I’m unnerved by how _pleasant_ it is in here. I’d have expected Legendaries to be disinterested in human desires like temperate climates and gentle lighting, but apparently they’re suckers for the nice things, too. 

I can spot two stone daises in front of me, and I know that Dialga and Palkia are probably slumbering upon each, but in some different dimension or some other hokey-pokey. But this is where my clock comes into play. 

I return Luxray and once again send out Torterra. I place the clock carefully in front of the left dais, making sure it looks like an offering.

“Wood Hammer!” 

Torterra looks bewildered but obliges. In a surprisingly acrobatic maneuver, she flips over herself, somersaulting in the air, and smashes the clock with the tree growing triumphantly upon her back. The clock is obliterated, with springs flying everywhere, and the minute hand whizzes past me, slicing my cheek along the way. 

But there’s no time to dwell on that.

As soon as the clock is destroyed, the mountain shudders and Torterra and I are knocked to the floor. An earthquake! The entire cavern sways from side-to-side, and stalactites and stalagmites begin undulating much like my pencil did when I learned that one trick in Trainer school. 

But, as I sit there on the stone floor, rather ungracefully on my bottom, a smile unzips across my face. In the center of the dais, a swirling storm of silver and blue appears, and the world quakes again. I instruct Torterra to be ready for battle, and shakily rise to my feet. 

There was no earthquake. The clamor was coming directly from this whirlwind before us, and it occurs to me that the thing might be _roaring_ at us _._

The swirling slows, and I am able to pick out shapes: an arm, another arm, a muscular tail, metal spikes outlining massive shoulders blades, and finally, the gigantic, almost definitely neck-pain inducing head of Dialga.

As the majestic creature cranes its neck to get a better look at the offenders before it, I snort, despite myself. The Lord of Time, the gatekeeper of years, one of the two patron deities of Sinnoh, came before me because I smashed a _clock_. My half-baked, uninformed, random guess _worked_. Dialga, like me, really must not have much going on right now. That, or it _really_ cares about chronometers.

But, it doesn’t matter _why_ Dialga chose to manifest before me. All that matters is that it _has._ And I won’t squander this opportunity. 

It rears back onto its hind legs, and I gasp as I realize the cavern can barely contain such a large creature. But I shake my head back into focus and fish my arm into my pocket. 

Torterra, bless her soul, is looking at me with worry, waiting devotedly for me to issue a command. 

But I don’t have to. I dig out the Master Ball from my pocket, and without any sort of preamble or presentation, I hurl it at Dialga. 

Everything seems to go in slow motion. Which is worrisome, because it very well might be, considering who I’m up against. The world trembles as Dialga roars one last, final time, and its front legs move to slam back down, which would inevitably kill Torterra and me. But the ball, the ball! opens up and Dialga is engulfed in raw, red energy, and it’s sucked into the ball, and the ball clos–

* * *

–I return Luxray and once again send out Torterra. I place the clock carefully in front of the left dais, making sure it looks like an offering.

“Wood Hammer!” 

_Wait, what?_

“No, wait, Torterra, stop!” 

My lovely, ever obedient Torterra somehow manages to weave through the air and land without crushing the clock I’ve told her to obliterate. She waits devotedly for me to issue another command.

_What the hell is going on?_

I know for a fact that I just got here, to Spear Pillar, but I can’t shake this weird feeling of deja vu, like I’ve _done this_ before. I return Torterra and gingerly step over the offered clock onto the platform.

And I yelp, because the platform opens up and swallows me whole: I am yanked down and see the cosmos lunge for me and nebulas form around my body and universes expand and contract and then it’s all black.

* * *

The blackness is comforting, in a way. And I’m so very tired. I sit without looking down, because I instinctively know I don’t want to see the nothingness I rest upon. I also relax my eyes, which hurt from squinting and trying to parse the void. 

A booming voice rings out, bouncing off all the walls (?) of the blackness: _You know where you are._

It wasn’t a question.

I timidly reply: “...no?”

The booming voice ignores me. _You know what you have done._

I don’t bother replying this time, because my feelings get hurt when I’m ignored.

 _I am the Lord of Time, Commander of the Chronos, The Dragon of the Second Dimension, or, as you lot have distastefully decided,_ Dialga _. You understand, fundamentally, what I control. And yet you sought to capture me?_

I grin mareepishly and scratch my head. And then I pause and snatch my hand away from my hair, because I just now noticed that the voice has been booming within the confines of my skull.

_Answer. What, little girl, is your aim in doing this?_

Dialga’s voice is rather masculine. I hope he isn’t offended that I’m gonna refer to him as a he. 

“Uh...you’re a big deal where I’m from. I thought I could find meaning in my life if I caught you.”

I squeak and press my palms to my temples, trying to hold my skull together. Dialga is, for lack of a better term, upset, and his rumbling makes my head feel like it’ll explode.

_Is this what I am reduced to? A creature to capture like all the others? Time would collapse on itself were I to leave my post. You all would disintegrate, turning into the very sand that passes through the hourglass, from how split the timelines would be._

I don’t really have much to say for myself, which is convenient, because Dialga isn’t done berating me. 

_Humanity has failed to recognize why the Legendary Beasts are Legendary. And in doing so, humanity has failed to recognize its subservience to us._

Dialga appears suddenly before me, and I flinch. Even though I jabbed at his appearance earlier, he really is majestic, what with the beautiful blue chestpiece and the iridescent veins traveling across his body. He rears up on his hind legs, and the deja vu strikes again, and the empty blackness is now surrounded by creatures just as majestic as Dialga is. 

They all hover, high above me, and I have to arch my neck like you would in the front row of the theater, which, as always, hurts. 

If Dialga’s voice in my head was too loud, then this weird council of Legendaries--for I had no doubt these were Legendaries--was completely overwhelming.

Thankfully, the voices no longer echo in my brain, but they still chatter away at an ear-splitting volume. 

Every single Pokemon is arguing about what to do with me:

_We should burn her!_

_We should zap her!_

_We should grant her a wish!_

_Shut up, Jirachi!_

I’m not liking the general vibe of this group. I clench my fists and prepare to shout something in my defense. But then, this lanky, regal gold and grey Legendary, which looks like some unnamed drawing in one of the Sinnoh myths, rises above the others. 

They all fall silent. 

I find myself kneeling before it unconsciously, and I admire the gorgeous golden threads that spiral their way up and down the Pokemon’s body like DNA encircling our souls. 

_Hello, little human._

This creature addresses me in the most gentle, soothing, peaceful voice I’ve ever heard. As soon as it speaks, tears stream down my face and I’m overcome by how _okay_ everything will be. 

Until it continued.

_Little girl, you have committed a sin that this version of mankind has never committed before. We cannot take such encroachment lightly. As such, the time has come for you to face your judgment._

I spring to my feet, more than a little irritated by this whole spectacle. “Look, no one ever _said_ I couldn’t try to catch Dialga! And why are you guys condemning me like I threw the freakin’ Poke-ball at him (I notice a few Legendaries express confusion at the pronoun), when all I did was enter Spear Pillar?” 

The grey-gold Legendary looks to Dialga, as if confused.

Dialga rumbled, which sounded an awful lot like clearing one’s throat, and began: _Actually, you_ did _throw the ball._

I am utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

_I am the master of time. As soon as you threw the ball, I rewound this timeline to the instant you chose to summon me, rather than shackle myself to you._

_As such, it is no wonder why the same situation appeared similar to you, because you technically_ have _invoked me in this timeline before. Much like the past, the future contains memories, too. But they only become memories when rewound, and even then, they occupy a less concrete space in the brain than memories do._

I continue to be utterly confused. But I shove it aside. My fingers squeeze and then unfurl, and I take a few deep breaths. “Regardless, why is trying to catch you such a big deal? You guys make it seem like I’m a mass murderer or something. I’m not! I’m just a Trainer trying to find a purpose for herself.” 

Dialga makes a noise as if affronted, but before he can chew me out, the grey-gold lanky Pokemon intervenes.

_Little girl, you have yet to grasp the gravity of the situation. We, as Legendary Pokemon, embody the very threads that sew this reality together. We are collective cogs in the existential machine. You cannot hope to remove the engine and demand the automobile to still drive._

_But the greater sin, even greater than threatening the very structure of reality itself, is that you, as a human being, have decided you are above the Legendaries. When we set out to sculpt this world, we did so with a particular image of humanity: humble, peace-loving, and cooperative with other creatures. And so it has been maintained, for countless generations._

_Until you._

_Your actions might encourage other humans to partake in similar activities. And if humans begin to capture us, they will take up the mantle of controllers of reality. A mantle they are unfit to wield._

The Pokemon lets out an absolutely indifferent sigh.

_You remind me of an era I wish not to remember. But perhaps it is an era that we must not soon forget._

And just like that, the Legendaries vanish, leaving me alone in the blackness.

* * *

I sit there, twiddling my thumbs, for what seems like quite a while. I feel no need to take out any of my Pokemon, and the blackness would scare them all back into their Poke-balls, anyway. 

For some reason, I feel particularly at ease. I understand that punishment awaits me, and when the grey-gold Pokemon explained my crimes, it just made _sense._ And what’s cooler than being so troublesome you’re considered a threat to reality? 

I’d say I'm at peace with what I’ve done, even though it feels like I haven’t done anything. I had no idea that it was so easy to be a bad guy. I thought you had to be really intense and shave off your eyebrows, like Cyrus did. 

The feeling that’s been gnawing at me since my crime was explained to me continues to chomp at my innards as I realize that I might simply have been incompatible with this beautiful world I live in.

And it _is_ a beautiful world. Besides geeks like Cyrus, we’ve managed to get by happily and without major conflicts. Our economy hasn’t really plummeted ever, and our system of governing just works. We live side-by-side with Pokemon, and they love us as much as we love them. 

Except for me, apparently. 

I take out Torterra’s Poke-ball and toss it up and down. In here is a creature that I’ve shown more love to than I have my mother. I choke up, suddenly overcome by where I am and what might happen to me. I hug Torterra close to my chest and then put her back in my bag. Screw it, I am most definitely _not_ at peace. 

As I think about it, it becomes more and more puzzling why I bothered to catch Dialga in the first place. I’m the Sinnoh Champion, hailed the entire region over as someone who cares for and adores her Pokemon. There’s also several _generations_ of Sinnoh natives who’ve grown up with these myths, and not a single one of them felt compelled to make the Legendaries their own. How could I have disrespected Pokemon, _Legendary_ ones at that, so utterly? 

Am I arrogant? Am I suicidal? Am I worse than anything else in the world? 

Who knows. I no longer have time to mull it over, for one of the corners of the blackness makes a zipping noise, and the Legendaries file in, surrounding me once more. 

The grey-gold Pokemon, floating in front of the rest, addresses me after a pause.

_We have discussed your judgement. It was a difficult decision, as we were unsure if your crime was personally charged or was indicative of humanity as a whole. But we came to the conclusion that you, as an agent of humanity, can never truly be personally separate from the rest. And so we have opted to enlighten you to the necessity of Legendary Pokemon ruling over the masses._

At this last sentence, a regal blue Pokemon with rainbow colored antlers comes forth. It looks like a Stantler in a beauty pageant. It bows its head before me, and says in a voice oddly similar to my mother’s: 

_I am Xerneas, guardian of the land Kalos. I am the keeper of life._

I bow my head as well, trying not to unravel at the sound of my mother’s voice coming from this beautiful Pokemon. My knees shake, and I miss my mom more than anything in the world right now. 

_Your judgment entails receiving eternal life from me. You will remain the age you are now from now until time immemorial. You cannot be killed._

I snap my head up, and rub my neck from the whiplash I’ve given myself. “Y-You _what_?” I stammer out. Eternal life? Staying this age? It doesn’t sound that bad right now, but if it’s meant as punishment…

 _You also cannot kill yourself,_ Xerneas adds with an ominous sense of finality. 

The grey-gold Pokemon makes an unrecognizable noise, and Xerneas retreats back into the throng of Legendaries. And taking its place is my old friend…

“...Dialga.” 

_It is so. The Legendaries have elected me to mete out the second half of your punishment._

I close my eyes, ready for everything, ready for nothing.

_Your punishment pertains to history, and as the Lord of Time, it falls upon me to fulfill this task. You will be taken to the beginning of the age of Man and Pokemon._

As per usual, I am confused. “Isn’t that supposed to be...like a big Egg floating in space? You really think my punishment should be dealing with the _first_ Pokemon?”

The grey-gold Pokemon really loves to cut Dialga off. It interjects, and explains, _You will find our history to be a bit more...convoluted than that. We have also given you a task along with your punishment._

_Your duty is this: Find your way back from the start of our history to this day and age you hold so dear._

_You will be dealing with human beings quite unlike the ones you are used to currently. Without us, human beings were different creatures, creatures that ran amok without regard for the precarious nature of reality._

_It is up to you to find your way back here. You are a bit young for your age, so it will be difficult to sway human history in the direction you want, but this is part of the punishment. In addition, you will find that it was not simply a stream of ‘good’ choices that led us from then to now. You will be faced with difficult decisions and heart-breaking consequences, and only then will you understand the value of Legendaries and the necessity of a subservient humanity._

_Dialga’s hold on time does not only pertain to our modern day. Should you fail in steering history in the proper direction, the timeline will be rewound once more to the beginning of Man and Pokemon’s history, until you can successfully navigate your way back. You will be stuck in a loop until you are able to think like_ they _did._

 _I only hope you retain your sanity in the process. Your judgement has been passed. Your past, your future, your_ forever _, has been decided._

“Wait! Give me some time to prepare! I’m not ready! I have to see my mother! My Pokemon! My friends! I have to tell them I love the–”

* * *

Nagasaki, August 10th, 1945.

I have no idea what the above words mean. 


End file.
